The Blu Pyro
by kireme
Summary: a story about the blu team pyro. reviews or comments or encouragement appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

A soft glisten of sweat covered his skin, nearly all of which was exposed under the suit on a daily basis. All moisture and heat produced in fighting was kept as insulated in as flame was out thanks to the blue attire. There was a light sound of relief under his mask as the outfit was pealed away from his body. He kept his door and bathroom door securely locked, he trusted not his privacy to his teammates and brought his flamethrower with him always, even where he should have had his solitude. He was once mask off in his room and the loud helmeted idiot busted down his door. The flamethrower sitting on his bed distracted said solly long enough to fix the mask. The Pyro, to compensate, burnt him just short of having to respawn before removing the intruder. But now was his time for privacy. Slowly he let himself remove the gas mask There was but one mirror in his room it was mildly hidden in his bathroom, but none the less full length and he walked over to it.

The mirror reflected an image of the Blu fire lover. Tell thin form with pale golden hair, fairly messy, on top his head; soft ivory skin with spreading purple marks. The remains of fire gently, lovingly, lapping at skin extended from his back to wrap around forward. They went around most his arms, which only had a few inches of unburned skin on the front. His legs too were burnt, not much below the knee they ended, and most the front was sparred. On his sides the path of the flame was very obvious as well, as if leaping forward. He had gotten these while lying on his back on the fire.

Up now to his face and neck, burns were the saliva left by the tongues of flame; the lover it was to the Pyro that time. They held his neck as if fingers chocking him from behind in anger and passion. Dull green orbs covered in speckles of brown starred hollowly back at himself. Were it not for the scar reducing power of the respawn system there would be a more recent system of burns on his left arm. Self inflicted burns from his favorite lighter. They were so gentle and calming, easing away slowly any negatives, fire was a merciful lover willing to make any so happy. To let them feel that soft comfort, that burning.

His scars were beautiful and disgusting, and his alone. Hiding your face from the world, is there anything wrong with that? Running his fingertips over scars elicited a pleased sigh from the Pyro. He Looked at his body only when he wanted to remember, and those memories were sacred and only for him. Why leave something so deeply personal open for the gazes, the probing violating curiosity, of others? Thinking of that the blond bit softly at his lower lip and walked over to the shower.


	2. Chapter 2

The Pyro turned the knob for the hot water, and only the hot, as far as it would go. The first time he had done this he had to leave a message for the Engie that the water temperature could be set dangerously high. Despite how much he liked it he didn't want to be tempted and have to be sent to the medic with head to toe burns from boiling water. Who knows, the medic might force him to remove the protective and safe suit and mask to see the burns before fixing him. He slipped into the area where near scalding water was falling, and it sent shivers down his spine, and as he washed memories came to his mind. Memories of times in places, and he was sure they were smiling.

Flick flick of the lighter, when he finally mastered it he began playing with it, his only friend. The candles, the paper, his favorite toys as his father slept soundly in his bed. That man, as a young boy the pyro once saw him spit fire with a lighter. He knew of burns, round smoldering burns, but learning what would and wouldn't catch fire took time. Thirteen, the entire house was ablaze, and no fire alarms would ever go off. The Pyro sat just across the street, the neighbors reported that for once they saw the grim boy smile. They hardly found the charred remains of his father, but the Pyro was sure that he was smiling back at him. He was thankful.

Older, living with a lover, slow slow convincing to take it further; rewarding to get past candle wax though his lover hardly had the stomach for that particular.. interest. The night of the burns, frustration, he lit the bed on fire from the bottom, his lover fled, and he simply laid back on it, satisfied, until the firemen broke in. He left the hospital before they knew who he was, a string of arsons followed. The lover was found dead in a car, stuck in as the car had been burnt expertly to a crisp. The perpetrator wasn't caught.


End file.
